


Stage Four Fear of Trying

by aingeal



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bisexual Steve Rogers, Bottom Steve Rogers, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, First Times, M/M, Past Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Past Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Steve Rogers loses his virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2015-09-29
Packaged: 2018-04-24 00:59:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4899445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aingeal/pseuds/aingeal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve's a nonagenarian virgin who's pretty much resigned to going to the grave that way. Then one day when he's out running he meets this guy called Sam Wilson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stage Four Fear of Trying

**Author's Note:**

> This has no plot at all. The set up that I was too lazy and porn-focused to write: "On your left" etc., in the car Nat's like _hey looks like you pulled_ , Steve's all _???, !!!_ , he meets Sam at the VA and asks him out for coffee, coffee happens, cue fic.
> 
> Title from [Stage 4 Fear of Trying](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4EWCAWR1MQg) by Frank Iero ([lyrics](http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/frnkieroandthecellabration/stage4fearoftrying.html))

They make it inside. Sam’s house is cool and quiet. There’s a gentle hum from his ceiling fans, and Steve can make out traffic noise from outside, distant, sounding like the sea. Sam shuts the screen door and then the back door behind them and the traffic noise cuts out, leaving them in a thicker silence. Their breathing suddenly seems far more noticeable than usual.

Steve turns to smile at Sam. Somehow he’s tongue tied, though he wouldn’t say he’s nervous, exactly. There’s just something thickening his throat and filling up his chest, knotting his tongue, making it hard to imagine being able to squeeze words out.

“Well, make yourself at home.” Sam smiles, kicking his shoes off at the doormat.

Steve hastily follows suit, feeling rude for walking in with his loafers on. Coming over there means he’s crammed into the small space by the doorway inadvertently, with Sam up against the wall and his own face brushing Sam’s sweaters and jackets where they’re hung up above his shoes. In the awkwardness that ensues there’s laughter, as Steve hops on one foot to get his other shoe off, and wobbles into Sam. Then Sam grabs Steve’s bicep to steady him, and all of a sudden the sexual tension that’s simmered all afternoon goes beyond unbearable. In that little cramped space Steve half turns so his face gets right up in front of Sam’s, and Sam keeps his hand on his arm even though Steve’s steady with two feet on the floor now. Steve looks into Sam’s eyes. They twinkle at him like he just dared Steve to do something, even though he didn’t say a word.

Steve kisses him.

The kiss is sweet, so sweet. Sam’s lips are full, and warm, and firm. Steve felt the brush of Peggy’s soft, lipstick-smelling mouth for one wind-swept second, and he’s treasured, oh how he’s treasured that memory, playing it over and over til it felt like it was going to wear thin from over-use. This, this though. This is sweet and hot and so _high-definition_ , and it goes on and on. Steve wants to savour it, to tuck it away in case it has to last him, like Peggy’s kiss had had to. But everything is so _much_ , so clear, so intense- the brush of Sam’s wiry facial hair, the slight press of his teeth sharp behind his lips- that Steve’s mind goes white and he feels unable to pay as much attention as he wants to. Everything is just _feeling_. He’s aware, as they kiss, and kiss, that he’s getting warm all over, from Sam’s mouth working against his. Sam knows how to kiss. It’s light and then deep, searching and then certain, his lips dancing, his tongue flickering, teasing, tasting. His hand’s still on Steve’s bicep, just squeezing it slightly. He pushes it up under the hem of Steve’s tshirt sleeve so he can brush his fingertips over Steve’s skin, Steve’s bulging muscle.

It’s so good. Steve gets his hands up, on either side of Sam’s neck, his fingers on his jaw, his ear, his hairline. He pushes harder into the kiss so that Sam leans back against the wall and follows him, pressing his body up close. Now Steve’s started he feels like he won’t ever be able to stop. The heat of the kiss is spreading through all of him, warming bits of him he didn’t realize hadn’t been unfrosted yet. His cock is hard, hard, behind the fly of his jeans. Sam must be able to feel it, pressing against his hip. Steve doesn’t care. He feels good, and Sam wants this too.

Sam does want this. He raises his thigh up so that it brushes Steve’s erection, letting him know he can feel it, and that’s something Steve never thought he’d feel, and it makes him blush from his ears to his collarbones, from excitement, and something a little like fear. Fear’s always made Steve want to do whatever’s scaring him all the more, and so he leans into it, pressing his groin into Sam’s leg, daring and game and so hot for it. Encouraged by Steve’s enthusiasm, Sam slides his hand up Steve’s belly, going under his tshirt. His fingers trace Steve’s navel, his abs, the deep plunging v of his hips.

It makes Steve gasp into the kiss. An aching heat that’s been suffusing slowly across his skin suddenly comes into sharp focus. He can feel it like a burn where Sam’s got his hands on him, like a vapour trail following the slow caress of his fingers. Steve can’t help it, he falls back from the kiss, his head tipping and his mouth opening on a sudden moan. His cock hurts it’s so hard. He’s hot all over. Hands on him.

Hands wandering upward, following the indent beneath and between his pecs and then cupping one side of them, squeezing the muscle, a thumb brushing over one nipple. Steve shudders and convulses. Shocking pleasure like electricity sparks its way down his stomach from his nipple straight to his dick. He stutters a gasp through it, stomach muscles cramping.

“Sam- Sam-” He shuts his eyes, trying to catch his breath. When he presses his forehead to Sam’s sweat slicks between them.

“Hey, I’m here. You ok?” Sam can hear how overwhelmed he is.

“Yeah,” Steve nods, and smooths his hands from Sam’s neck down to his shoulders, squeezing them, grounding himself. He keeps his eyes shut and his face pressed close to Sam’s when he says, hoarsely, “Yeah. It’s just… I’ve never done this before.”

Sam’s moved his hands so they’re both on Steve’s waist now, holding around him lightly, like he’s helping keep him upright, thumbs on his stomach. It feels better than anything so chaste has the right to. Sam nuzzles his cheek, his ear, and breathes,

“What, never been with a guy before?”

Steve swallows before he answers, and blushes when he does, even though he’s not ashamed. Not ashamed, just- it’s just a hard thing to say. It had been bad enough with Natasha, let alone in a cinch with Sam, a drop-dead gorgeous near stranger with his thigh rubbing up against Steve’s embarrassingly huge hard-on.

“No. Never with… anyone. Ever.”

“Are you trying to tell me a guy like you is a ninety year old virgin?”

Steve flinches, he can’t help it. He pulls back a little, but Sam stops him, a hand winding round to the small of his back and another going to his bicep again.

“Hey, wait, sorry, that came out bad. I only meant- well damn, have you seen yourself?” Sam’s smiling, his eyes kind. Steve should’ve known he wasn’t trying to be mean. He doubts Sam Wilson has a malicious bone in his body.

Steve smiles a little at the compliment and ducks his head to kiss him instead of replying. Sam kisses back, but he’s a little hesitant, asking Steve to talk to him with the slow withdrawing movements of his head, his quiet hands on Steve’s waist.

Steve reluctantly stops kissing him and grits his teeth. Then he takes his hands off Sam’s shoulders and puts them on either side of his head, on the wall, boxing him in.

“Look,” Steve says, staring into Sam’s eyes fiercely. His chest is heaving and he wets his lips before continuing, “I don’t want to talk about it. It’s so- awkward and I just- Sam I just want to-“ by the time he stops speaking on a breathy exhale his lips are barely an inch from Sam’s. He can’t stop staring at Sam’s mouth, can’t stem the desire that’s serum-strong inside him, stopping him from being able to form a complete sentence.

Sam nods slowly, seriously. Sam takes him seriously. It’s such a relief. Tony, Nat, even- even Buck, they always laugh- laughed- at him, somehow. But Sam’s listening, really listening.

“Ok. Yeah.” He says gravely, having clearly thought about it for a minute. “Ok.” He’s looking at Steve’s mouth, too. Steve feels like he can’t breathe.

They start kissing again, because they can’t help it. It gets deep quickly. Steve can’t control himself and before long he has his hands on Sam’s face and his body pressing him into the wall, chests flush and legs tangling. Sam slides his hands round Steve’s waist to his back and rucks up his tshirt so he can slip his hands up under it again, running them along either side of the dip where Steve’s spine is, up to his shoulder blades and then down to his waist. They glide firmly and smoothly enough not to tickle, but Steve’s so sensitive and overheated that it almost hurts, from the intensity of it, and his back bows away from the touch, skin vibrating with the painful pleasure. He gasps and gasps into Sam’s mouth and his eyelashes flutter, and he presses himself into Sam because it’s too much, but if it was even more then he could take it, he needs it to be more so that it overwhelms him, not unbearably teasing like this…

But Sam’s pulling away, pulling his hands out from under the shirt and settling them on Steve’s waistband, steady over the chunky denim and the leather belt.

“What are you doing?” Steve pants, red-faced, confused.

“I know you don’t want to talk about it, but if you’ve never done this before, are you sure you want it to be like this? It’s kinda a big deal. According to some people. I don’t want you to feel like you gotta rush into anything, y’know? And-just so you know- this is not just some hookup, for me, right now.”

“Sam. Sam, god, you’re great. But seriously, trust me, I’ve waited long enough. I want this, I want it now.”

Sam smiles at him.

“I was hoping you’d be saying that.”

Steve laughs, giddy, liking him so much. And then they’re kissing again.

Sam gets his hands back on Steve’s waist- he must like it, how slim it is, how it tapers down in back to the muscles of his ass; god, that makes Steve feel faint all over- and then it’s him who’s pushing at Steve, walking him backwards away from the wall and down the corridor and into the bedroom. Steve laughs into Sam’s mouth as he shuffles backwards with Sam’s strong hands guiding him all the way. It feels good to laugh. Laughter hasn’t been nearly a big enough part of his life, he realizes.

He’s still laughing when the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed and he goes down with a thump, and Sam straddles his waist and pushes him down into the blankets.

All of a sudden Steve’s not laughing any more, eyes going big and mouth gasping, looking up into Sam’s face as he hangs over him. God, they’re doing this. He gulps and blinks, and Sam stares at him for a long moment.

“I know you said you don’t care, but I want to make this special for you, alright? And you’re telling me you’ve never done anything like this before? Well I want it to be memorable, something you’re not gonna forget in a hurry. So I know you don’t want to talk, but I’m gonna ask you some things. Ok?”

“Ok.” Steve says, dry mouthed.

“Ok. So. Have you never been naked with someone else?”

_A broad pale back with hair across the shoulders and in the small of it, curls on the neck, small knobbly ears, rounded strong buttocks and thighs, darkly haired too, and strong arms, and a thick waist, and a heavy cock in a thatch of hair…_

“No. Not.. not like that.” As soon as the words are out of his mouth Sam starts stripping him, tshirt first, then his belt buckle. He has to roll off Steve in order to tug his pants down. Steve is far too lightheaded to participate in the process, so he just rocks back on his elbows and watches Sam do it.

Then he’s naked there on the bed, propped on his elbows, looking down the ripples of his own body at his cock. It’s harder than he’s ever known it, resting against his stomach, its tip red and already leaking. He thinks it’s obscene sometimes; it’s so big, almost comically so- he remembers looking at it for the first time in the mirror after the experiment and bursting out laughing. But right now it looks right: as keen as he is. Sam’s looking at him too, sweeping his eyes over his cock, his stomach, his chest, and then his face. Steve blushes when their gazes lock.

“Wow,” whispers Sam, and he looks some more, like he’s feasting himself. It gets a little too much for Steve, who shifts his body slightly, raising his knee as if he wants to cover himself with his leg. Attentive, Sam smooths his hand down his thigh, restraining Steve’s embarrassed gesture, and then presses his chest, pushing Steve down off his elbows into the duvet.

“Lay back. Relax. You can tell me to stop whenever, if you want. But I just wanna take my time with you right now… Goddamn…” Sam says, watching his own hands moving on Steve’s chest.

Steve nods and does as he’s told, throwing a forearm over his face to hide his blushes. His blood is pounding through his body, as sharp and hard an ache as it had been when they were kissing in the hallway. Whatever Sam would like, Steve doesn’t think he’s going to last long. His cock’s twitching hungrily, and his breath’s coming quick.

His mouth opens when Sam’s thumb brushes his nipple again. He gasps when he does it again, and again, and he arches his back into that electrifying touch. Then he cries out when Sam’s other thumb goes to his other nipple, the dual sensation so sharp, so painfully good. Behind his arm his eyelids flutter. The pleasure is so much, he can feel it arcing through him, all the way up and down, and he knows Sam’s watching him, can see how good he’s feeling, and is touching him more to make him respond more because he _wants to see it—_ fuck, _fuck_ : Steve moans and lifts his hips, he can’t stop it, he needs it-

“Damn, you’re sensitive,” says Sam wonderingly, and Steve manages to pant,

“Uh-huh,” in reply, “Oh, it feels so good...”

“And no-one’s ever done this with you? That’s a goddamn crime”

“No, nothing like this… nothing like this… Fuck, please…”

“Can I touch your cock?”

“Oh god, yes, yes, yes Sam-“

Sam inhales through his teeth with excitement. He thumbs Steve’s nipples for a few more strokes, until Steve starts twisting his pelvis and crying out, and then he stops. He cups the full swell of Steve’s pecs in each hand and squeezes them. He runs his hands down Steve’s stomach, over the indents and ridges of muscle, letting his thumb trace his belly button, and then slowly, tortuously going back up again, abs pecs nipples, causing Steve to bite down a yell of frustration and excitement.

“Come on, Wilson,” he manages, raising his arm to give Sam a look, “We already established you’re slow, but I’ve been ready for this for seventy years…”

Sam doesn’t reply and he tortuously flicks Steve’s nipples again, wickedly grinning, but then he caves. His hands drag back down, fingertips digging in hard, and when he gets below Steve’s belly button, to the place where his skin goes smooth and taut all the way down, he slows up even more and lets Steve feel the delicious anticipation build, tracing the veined skin, and the sinuous line of Steve’s hips, the broad place where his thighs meet them, halfway down those thick thighs, to their insides where the skin is soft, and up, letting the knuckle of one finger just graze the blond hair adorning Steve’s balls. Steve shudders and gasps and above his face his hand flexes in midair. It’s all he can do not to buck his hips up.

Sam’s hands frame his cock for one moment, still, paused for an eternal second.

Then he wraps one hand around the base of Steve’s cock and in the other encloses his red, drippy head.

It’s like an orgasm in its own right, the pause, the moment of constricted held breath, and then the star-burst blood-singing explosion of pleasure.

Steve can’t help the loud guttural groan that spills from him and the tears that rise to the corners of his eyes, wetting his lashes and the hair on his forearm where he’s buried his face. He never thought he’d have this, if he’s honest. He’s thought and dreamed and longed and lusted for this, has taken himself in his hand and shut his eyes and tried his best to imagine it was someone else’s touch. He was small and no-one would look twice at him, and then he was big and his own body felt like a foreign country, and it had been the war. But then he came back and found that in the future people like to fuck and he’s been looked at frankly and openly, lots of times, and Nat keeps on trying to set him up. So he could’ve. But his desires had been held private and aloof so long, had gotten so big inside him, so momentous- monstrous, like all of him- how could he have thought of letting a stranger see? Turns out all he needed was this man to see him, sweating in the humid D.C. morning, and all his fears had flown. He’d never felt like a valid person with a valid sexuality, until Sam looked at him the way he had.

Now Sam’s stroking him, Sam has his hands on the most sensitive parts of Steve and he’s touching him there like he already knows him, like they’ve done this before. It’s better than Steve’s ever managed to give to himself, despite his abundance of practice; Sam’s palm is hot and rough and feels like fire on Steve’s tip, twisting it, fingers stroking underneath the head, wet with Steve’s pre-come. His other hand grips his base, making the sensation swell until Steve feels like the top of his skull’s going to explode.

Steve moans, unbridled, as Sam skillfully strokes him, feeling the pleasure deepening in his pelvis, running into his limbs, suffusing headily through all of him, and above it all is the ecstasy in his penis and balls, screaming through his nerves, making his open mouth distend and his eyes roll back in his head.

It hits him sooner than he’d even guessed it would. The pleasure surges in him like wildfire, and his moans come out of him so loud, but he can barely hear them because inside him is a roaring white fire that drowns out everything, and then it starts in his feet. They cramp against the force of it, and then his legs are tensing and the pressure builds and builds and Sam can tell and holds Steve there so that it boils in his stomach and makes him prickle with sweat and flush all over, and then Sam flicks his wrist just right and slips one hand down to touch Steve’s balls and that’s it, he’s gone. The white heat claims Steve’s body, and he comes.

“I’m coming, oh fuck Sam, I’m coming- I’m coming-” he wails, and bites at his own arm. His thighs tremble as he lifts his hips and lets it take him, squirting his come in several heavy gouts onto his own chest, his stomach. The spasms come and keep coming, washing over him in waves until he’s wrung out and panting, shivering. He collapses finally and lies still for a long moment, unable to speak or move, feeling the buzz of his blood and his heart slowing down from its gallop, and the zing of pleasure echoing through his limbs.

“Oh my god,” he eventually manages to croak. “Holy shit, Sam, oh my god.”

Sam chuckles and leans over so he can kiss Steve’s sweet red mouth.

“That good, huh?”

“ _Jesus_ , yes,” Steve laughs in reply and puts his arms round Sam’s neck, pulling him down to kiss him more. Sam pulls back.

“Wait a second,” he says.

“Sure.” Steve smiles. He’s not in any hurry; he’s luxuriating in the afterglow and feels contented and calm. That’s a novelty. He lays back, tucking his arms under his head, and watches Sam. Sam strips out of his tshirt and then unbuttons his jeans and gets them off and throws them on the floor. Then without hesitation his boxer shorts come off too and he’s there naked next to Steve.

“Oh my god,” Steve repeats in an awed whisper. His eyes have gone hot and his cheeks too, and he reaches out a hand helplessly to touch, because Sam is beautiful. In clothes you can’t tell how sculpted his muscles are, how perfectly his compact body is molded. Clothes can make him seem a little inelegant, but in the nude he looks like a god. His skin is beautifully dark, darker in the creases of his muscles and at his nipples. His waist is broad. His chest has a scattering of wiry hair across it and around his nipples. His thighs are almost as big as Steve’s, and his ass looks _edibly_ round and ripe. Steve blushes more when his gaze drops to Sam’s cock. Sam is very hard, and it is beautiful: long and thick, and circumcised, unlike Steve. That wasn’t so much of a thing back in his day.

Steve’s known in theory that he likes dick but until now, seeing the real deal, he’s had no idea how much- at the sight of it his stomach drops halfway down to his knees, and his own cock begins to swell immediately. His mouth waters and his blush is inescapable, and he feels restless across all of his skin. He rises up onto his elbow and hooks one arm around Sam’s neck and pulls him back down, and he kisses him and kisses him and kisses him.

Tears start up in the corners of his eyes again, when he feels all of Sam’s skin bare against his own. All the way along the two of them they’re pressed tightly together. It’s velvety hot, and so intimate, and so erotic, and almost more than Steve can handle. Their stomachs swell into each other with their breathing, and their cocks are touching in a way that makes Steve see stars, and their limbs are tangling while they kiss like it’s impossible to get enough, even as close as they are. _This is love_ , Steve suddenly thinks, and he knows that the thought is at the same time both ridiculous and completely true. _I’m falling in love_.

He’s been in love before. It had walloped him the very first time he saw Peggy, just like the wallop she’d given that prick disrespecting her. But that love had been a crabbed and secret thing, a thing bound up in something far bigger and more important than itself, and it had kept Steve warm at night but had never seen the light of day, until that one desperate kiss at the end of the world.

And Bucky. But that love had been everything, as close to him as his own skin, had been with him since before he could remember- there had been no falling, only a gradual quotidian accumulation- and he hadn’t known he had had it until it was gone. Until Bucky was gone.

He almost starts properly crying thinking about those lost loves, but he’s gotten very good at not doing that and attending to the task at hand instead, and this task at hand is so very compelling that it’s actually easy for a change. He lets a few tears squeeze out, but they’re for this, from happiness, not for the past. Then he just sighs and moans and moves his body and runs his hands everywhere he wants to over Sam, losing himself in the closeness. They kiss deep enough to ache and before long they’re rubbing up on each other in a sultry slow rhythmic grind.

“You’re hard again?” Sam asks into one of the breathless pauses in between their kisses. “Already?”

Steve laughs and blushes. “Supersoldier serum,” he says by way of an explanation. “I’m just fast in every department.”

“I already saw that,” Sam laughs, making Steve blush more, the asshole. “So, what do you want now? Hey?”

Steve can’t even reply to that for a few minutes, he just has to kiss Sam some more. He can’t think; he wants to do _everything_. “What’re my choices?”

“Anything you like. Absolutely anything. I want to give you what you want.”

“Ok, in that case. In that case I want…” Steve gulps, hesitates, pulls Sam to him so he can hide his face. “I think I want you to- I think I want- -“

“Tell me. I want to hear. It’s ok.”

Steve takes a deep breath and digs his fingers into the swell of Sam’s ass unconsciously, because he’s oddly scared.

“Inside me, Sam. Your cock inside me,” he manages to pant out, embarrassed by how much his voice is affected, how hot he sounds.

Sam lets out a low groan in reply and nods against Steve’s head and kisses him, getting his hands up to hold his face, making Steve’s chest seize at that strange new feeling: of being desired.

“You’re sure? You want that so soon?”

“Yeah, Sam, yeah… Please, I- I want it to be you.” No point not being honest at this stage of the game. Not that he isn’t usually.

“That’s all I want, too,” Sam breathes, and Steve makes a sound that’s almost a yelp and presses a hot kiss on his lips- the only possible reply to that. Sam breaks off and strokes Steve’s cheek, looking into his eyes. “Ok now. You’ve heard that this is gonna hurt, right?”

“Uh, yeah, that’s what people say-”

“Ha, fools. I’m gonna show you what this is supposed to feel like, alright? Pain aint gonna come into it. Unless you want it to, that is.”

Steve laughs. “Er, I’ll pass for now. Maybe next time,” he says, and means it, because he thinks _so Sam’s kinky_ (one of the new words from the future, Tony had supplied that one) and it gives him undeniable butterflies.

“Aight. So turn over.”

Steve gasps a little, and does as he’s told.

He doesn’t know what to expect. A handjob he’s envisioned, sucking dick he’s fantasized about. But this has always been beyond imagining. From the first time he’d learned about it, back when he was little and the crude mocking talk of the other neighborhood kids had affected him in ways it didn’t seem to do to them- making his heartbeat yammer in his ears and his stomach feel like it was flying away, and something funny happen to him in his pants- he’s known he’s wanted it. He’d tried touching himself there once, but it didn’t really do anything.

He’s thinking about this while Sam kneads at his back, and kisses his neck, and runs his hands up and down Steve’s sensitive sides so that he shivers, and then gets them on his cheeks, squeezing and stroking and delving just a little towards Steve’s crack.

When Sam’s stroked and massaged Steve until he feels like he’s sinking into the mattress with relaxation, Sam touches him for real. He makes Steve spread his legs with a gentle pressure of his hand, so that he can reach up and touch his balls, the creases where his thighs turn into his ass, the firm cleft with its scattering of pale translucent hairs, and then deeper, working inwards with slow spiraling stroking teasing gestures. He gets Steve panting, gets Steve whining and opening his hips up, and then he touches him right in his center, right on the dry little pucker of his hole.

That’s when Steve realizes why touching himself there hadn’t worked. This was something meant for someone else to do to him, it was something only someone he deeply trusted and- oh god, loved- would be able to do. He’s expected it to feel slightly weird, maybe even a bit humiliating.

This couldn’t be further from that expectation.

It sends a jolt all the way up his spine. His cock twitches against his stomach where it’s pressed into the mattress, and he gasps out an _oh,_ and squeezes his eyes shut.

“Just wait a second, it’s gonna get even better,” Sam tells him, and rolls away. Steve shakily exhales, steadying himself. He looks out from under his arm and sees what Sam’s doing- lube. Oh yeah. He’s heard of that.

Sam coats his fingers. Steve’s heart starts hammering. Sam kisses the small of Steve’s back. Steve tenses and Sam murmurs, “Relax.”

He tries his best. Shuts his eyes and concentrates on breathing, and consciously doesn’t clench up when Sam’s slick fingers trail down his crack. Sam teases him until his tension truly leaves him, until he’s pressing his cock into the bed and panting for more, and then he gives it to him.

The wet pad of Sam’s fingertip feels unimaginable, like a tiny tongue, like Sam’s tongue felt when he’d been fucking into Steve’s mouth with it, and it brings forth a moan from Steve’s mouth so harsh it’s almost a shout.

“Yeah?” Sam asks, mouth up by Steve’s ear, kissing his sweaty hairline. He moves his finger more, stroking up and down, round and round.

“Yeah, oh, _yes,”_ Steve pants. His throat can barely manage to form the words. He feels like he doesn’t exist apart from the spot on his body that Sam’s touching. The pleasure is exquisite in its own right, but more startling and exciting even than that is the desire that’s mounting alongside it: the desire for _more_. Steve’s hole responds without Steve’s conscious input, slackening, winking open, giving itself up to the _more_ that it craves, that Steve craves, that Steve knows is what he’s waited for his whole life.

The _more_ begins when Sam lets his fingertip dip inside Steve’s dilating hole, in and out just a millimeter or two until he feels Steve’s hips stutter with a voiceless _please_. Then he presses it there, not pushing it in but just exerting an unyielding pressure. Steve doesn’t know what he’s doing until, with a sudden flare of heat in his cheeks and a seize of his heart, he feels his body drawing Sam’s finger inside, helplessly opening up for it and then gently closing round it, again and again in an unbearably hot rhythm. That’s it, that’s the more he has to have- to be opened up, to be penetrated.

Having Sam’s finger inside him is so intense that it feels almost like it’s enough, for a while. Sam works it in and out, occasionally pulling it out to circle the rim. He does that until Steve starts muttering things under his breath, things like _yes_ , and _oh_ , and _please_ , and when he hears that he gives him two, repeating the procedure.

By this stage Steve’s trembling all over, and his legs are parting as wide as he can. His focus is all on his hole, on how open he is, how ready. The craving peaks into a need that almost makes him cry, it’s so insistent. He’s more than ready.

“Sam, please- I’m so ready, please, please-“

“You want my cock?”

“Oh, _uhhn,_ yes _, yes,_ please, your cock, please, put it in me-“

Sam’s gone beyond words too, he must be; he only grunts in reply.

Steve breathes shallowly. Sam’s climbing over him, holding his waist, while one hand strokes his hole one last time, before he uses it to guide the head of his cock to Steve’s open, needy hole.

It’s too much for noise, as the head sinks in, gliding in as easily and inexorably as Sam’s finger had. Steve has just about enough to capacity to think _Sam was right, this doesn’t hurt at all,_ before Sam goes all the way in in one steady push, and all of Steve’s brain becomes taken up with the awareness of being filled. Of having Sam inside him. It’s what he’s always craved without knowing what it was that he craved. He feels made new, in the joining of their bodies, the melding of himself with Sam, the sensation of his borders evaporating, of there no longer being a point where he ends and Sam begins.

It’s a mindless place that’s more than pleasurable. Then pleasure crashes over everything, turning his world crimson, because Sam thrusts into him. He thrusts slowly and carefully, aiming with his dick up inside Steve’s guts so that he can rub against his prostate, and it’s that which transforms Steve’s sensation from spiritual joy into pure carnal pleasure.

That spot inside him sends fire up his spine, like Sam’s hand had done on his cock. But so much stronger, so much more powerful- it makes Steve sweat, makes him yell, makes moans spill uncontrollably from his lips.

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” he pants, over and over, because it’s everything to him, the awareness of being fucked, being filled, being pounded into with that glorious, big cock, being finally given what he needs. “Yes, there-! Fuck me harder-”

Sam does, losing self control, filling the air with his own grunts and groans to mingle with Steve’s cries, and with the slap of his skin on Steve’s, and the greedy sucking noise that Steve’s slick ass makes around his cock.

Sam’s grasping Steve’s hips as he fucks him, and Steve’s on his knees and moving back into the thrusts, and he wishes this could last forever. Then he remembers that he’s safe now, that he’s not going anywhere and Sam’s not going anywhere. He can have this again, and again and again if he wants to, and no-one’s going to leave and no-one’s going to change and no-one’s going to fall.

This doesn’t have to last him another lifetime, so he lets himself lose the final scraps of his control, that have been holding on in order to remember this. He surrenders all of himself to the knowledge of having Sam inside him, and the pleasure that Sam’s cock is building up deep within his body.

He doesn’t last long. The searing heat in his prostate soon overtakes him, drowning his vision in mist and raising his moans into wordless screams. The pressure is intense, and he thinks of touching his cock to relieve it, but he instinctively knows his body is capable of more than that, and he’s right- the pressure builds and builds, and then it crests and keeps cresting, like a surfer harnessing the kinetic energy of the water and staying upright on it, until Steve feels like he might die if he doesn’t release, and then he hears that Sam’s breathing and moans have gone overwhelmed too, that Sam’s close, and then he hears Sam cry out,

“Steve!”

And that’s it. The pleasure crashes through him with an impact like a redwood being felled, convulsing him, shaking him, pulsing out and out and out from that spot buried deep inside him until it reaches its peak and he ejaculates, gasping through the strong contractions as he spurts all over himself. He hisses as it carries on and on, sustained by Sam moving inside him, coming inside him, noisily, with curses and grunts. There’s nothing but noise and spasms and sweat and come and tears. It lasts longer than anything.

Finally Sam slips out of him and folds himself over Steve, arms reaching under him to turn him over and wrap him up, chest to chest, Sam’s head on his shoulder. Steve shuts his eyes and basks in it, knowing without the need to speak that Sam’s feeling exactly the same things as he is. Exhaustion, and exhilaration, and bone-deep satisfaction. And—love.

He knows it can’t be very late, but sleep seems very right to do regardless. He feels himself drifting already, with Sam’s warm sleepy heat pressing him into the bed- the most blissful weight he’s ever felt. He finds Sam’s hand and squeezes it. Sam squeezes back, and smiles into Steve's shoulder. Steve smiles strangely to himself as he tries, as he falls asleep, to not think of Bucky, to not think of how they should’ve had this. To not think of all that he's missed. 

 

 

 


End file.
